Not Again
by boscoslut
Summary: ELAC Tag: When Dean was target practice for those knives... how about they actually hit him.


In response to a challenge from Jana. Everyone Loves a Clown Missing Scene: When Dean was target practice for those knives... how about they actually hit him.

500500500500500

"Did you get the?" Sam asked, looking down at his brother who was gasping for breath. He did a mental inventory of his older brother and he appeared to be uninjured. A little shaken up, perhaps, but uninjured.

"Brass blades?" Dean finished Sam's sentence for him. He turned his back to his brother, "No, no it's just been one of those days." He turned back around to see Sam looking over his shoulder.

"I've got an idea, come on," Sam said, his long legs taking him half way up the ramp before Dean could muster a "what?" Dean automatically followed in a faster pace for his shorter legs, catching up to his younger sibling he was directly behind him as they entered the clown's mouth of the fun house.

The fun house wasn't completely pitch black. Neon green, orange, and blue boarded the numerous doors. Dean could feel the hair stand up on the back of his neck as he hurriedly followed his brother who had picked up his pace through a maze of several doors.

The fun house seemed oddly cold for an establishment for children. Thank God there were no children's voices in the background tonight. Dean was pretty sure they figured this one out though. The clown was luring children to invite it into their homes and then it would feed on their parents, leaving the children alive and left with what was no doubt permanent mental issues and a forever fear of clowns.

His ears arched at the many different noises in the background playing over the speaker system. Most of them sounded like damn clowns. Dean wasn't sure if he'd walk away from this one without a forever fear of clowns himself. Forget Sammy's childhood fear. He would never be able to look at Ronald McDonald the same again either. It was going to be strictly Burger King in the fast food department from here on out. Dean was ready to crack one of his improper jokes to ease the tension when he heard the sliding of a door slam shut and his brother disappeared.

"Sam!" Dean felt frantically along the wall in front of him.

"Dean!" Sam was doing the same thing on the other side.

Both were now scared for the well being of the other one.

Dean tried desperately to peel the door open with his bare hands.

"Dean find the maze, okay?" Sam tried to remain calm. His own phobia causing his heart to pound overtime in his chest.

The insane laughter of a clown directly behind him had Dean spinning fast, backing up against the trap door. He looked every which way with wild eyes. He was expecting an attack to come at him and he stood there breathing heavy for a few moments. With no brass blade he knew there was nothing he could do to defend himself. When nothing came, he gathered his fears, swallowed to ease his now dry throat, and began his journey to the maze.

For some reason, it was probably just his imagination, the freaky sounds in the background intensified now that he was alone. His body was tense as he made his way through, pausing several times at different doorways expecting something to jump out at him. An insane laughter behind him made him do a 180. He listened for a few minutes before turning back around, this time picking up his pace. This place was freaking him out.

Amazingly, even though it felt like he was heading in the opposite direction of Sam, he ended up walking to him. "Hey!" The relief in his voice was clear.

"Hey," Sam did a double take, "where is it?" He had his hands tucked into his sleeves and was struggling to remove a brass pipe from some freaky looking instrument that was steaming.

"I don't know," Dean responded, "I mean, shouldn't we see his clothes walking around?"

Sam turned his back to Dean, growling in anger at the stubbornness of the brass pipe.

At that very moment the sound of a knife swiveling through the air rang out followed by a thump and a grunt by Dean. Then what sounded like one knife after another as Dean cried out, "SAM AHHHHHH!"

The first knife pinned him to the wooden door behind him by his jacket, just between the armpit. His head slammed hard against the door from the momentum. He grunted and eased his arm up over his head, ready to pull the knife out and free him from the wall when a second knife came at him.

The knife sliced through the center of his wrist with ease. The entire knife blade punctured it and only the handle remained, the rest in wood.

"What the... FUCK, Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!" He cried out in pain and anger. "SHIT!" He yelled moving his free hand up in an attempt to remove the painful object. Another knife blade came flying at him, rotating violently towards his head. "NOOO!" He closed his eyes unable to move. The knife grazed the side of his face, slicing sensitive flesh, before embedding itself into the door. "Arrggggghhh," he winced sucking in a deep breath, feeling the warmth of blood already oozing from the wound and trickling down his neckline.

"HOLD ON, DEAN!" Sam shouted, growling again as he used all his strength to free one of the pipes, this time his attempt successful.

"I'm not going anywhere," Dean yelled sarcastically, his voice etched with pain. Two more knives came at him, "SAM!"

There was nothing Sam could do. He was to far from his brother to deflect them with his own body, or he would have.

One found its home in his upper left thigh, the other piercing stomach muscle. "GAAAWWWDDDDDD!" Dean cried out, tipping his head back to clunk against the door again. His eyes scrunched shut in agony, his entire body on fire, especially the one burning up his belly.

"DEAN!" Sam shouted, looking over at his brother with concern then looking towards the direction the knives were coming from. Another knife came flying out of nowhere, this one directly towards Sam's head.

"SAMMY LOOK OUT," Dean's eyes were open now. He watched as Sam easily ducked avoiding the deadly object. The knife flew between brass pipes behind him making loud clanging noises.

"Where is it, Dean? I can't see it!" Sam called out, clenching the brass pipe like a lifeline.

"I don't, Aggggghhh, I don't know!" He looked up to the steam nozzle just above his head. Ignoring all the pain he eased his free hand up, crying out as all his fresh wounds were jarred from the slight movement. He pulled the nozzle down towards him, steam immediately kicking up out of the vent of the brass instrument. He looked back to Sam and watched as a shape materialized in the steam directly behind him. "SAM IT'S BEHIND YOU!"

Nothing he could do here to help his brother, he sucked in a deep breath and reached down hard and fast, screaming out as he pulled with all his might on the knife pinning his wrist. It took several yanks and a wave of dizziness came over him as he freed the blade. The sound of his flesh being sliced overcame all other noises as it was pulled out, Dean instantly dropping the knife to the floor he began working on the blade pinning his coat.

Sam reared back at Dean's shout, never once looking to see if it was behind him, the brass pipe slicing into something moving in on him. He could feel its breath on the back of his neck. He held on to it and pushed harder, the clown letting out the most high pitched eerie wail he'd ever heard.

Dean cried out again, jerking his body forward his coat ripped, freeing him from the wall. He collapsed to his knees gasping, looking up at Sam he grabbed the knife in his thigh and screamed at the top of his lungs, his scream blending in with the clown's as he freed the offending object. His bloody hands shook and he growled like an entire cage of hungry pissed off tigers.

Sam felt the brass pipe rip from his grasp and instantly turned, watching the shape of the clown fall backwards, still squealing, pipe facing now upwards.

Forgetting the knife in his gut, knowing no way he could rip that one out himself, Dean grabbed the wall for support and eased his way up, staggering towards Sam.

"Sammy..." he nearly choked, stumbling a few steps and losing his balance, Sam turned back around just in time to catch him. "It's okay, Dean, I got it," he reassured, looking down at his brother's face. Even in the darkness he could make out Dean's pale features. He could feel the warm stickiness of blood pouring off Dean, he could smell it. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Dean lied, trying to regain himself, stumbling again.

"Take it easy, Dean, lets get out of here," Sam cooed, wrapping his arm around Dean's waist.

"ARGGG, CAREFUL SAMMY!" Dean hissed, looking down at the clown to reassure the job was done before letting Sam guide him out of the fun house.

"Sorry," Sam apologized, guiding him out. He could feel his brother getting weaker with each step, taking on more of the older hunter's weight. He didn't like the sound of Dean's breathing, short and raspy.

"Hey Sammy, some fun house huh?" Dean weakly joked, his voice tight with pain.

"We're almost there," Sam ignored him, coaching him as they made their way out into the night. Sam eased Dean down onto the fun house ramp, "Where are you hurt?"

Dean was panting, he tried to speak but his words were slurred and unrecognizable.

Sam decided to do inventory. He first grabbed at the wrist Dean was coddling, his eyes widening at the gaping hole. "Oh God, Dean," he said with sympathy, immediately discarding his own jacket and over shirt, he began to rip the cotton material into shreds.

"It's okay, man, I'll take care of this," Sam assured, swallowing the bile in his throat. Dean had blood running down his face in a heavy stream. His eyes were glazing over and he was starting to shake.

"Dean, you stay with me, you hear me?" He ordered, finishing the task of ripping his shirt into several makeshift bandages. He shifted the weight on his feet as he crouched down by his brother, feeling the stickiness beneath his shoes he made the mistake of looking down. Blood, and lots of it, was making its own many rivers down the ramp, collecting into what looked like a freaking ocean.

This was too much for Sam. It had only been a week since Dean nearly died on him in that god forsaken hospital. He wasn't able to take care of his older brother then, he had tried everything and failed. By some great luck his brother made a miraculous recovery that was still unknown to him. Now here he was, laying on a fucking fun house ramp, _bleeding out_.

"Oh God," was all Sam could muster under his breath. He was still dealing with his father's death. No way he could handle Dean's. No fucking way. It wasn't going to happen.

Sam began frantically searching Dean's body, noting the upper thigh wound as a source for most of the bleeding. As his hand made its way passed Dean's stomach area a hard object rubbed against his palm, causing Dean to arch his back and cry out in agony.

Both his hands instantly made a grab for his stomach. "No Dean, let me," Sam pleaded, forcing Dean's hands back down to the side, being extra careful not to touch his injured wrist. He looked at the growing blood stain on Dean's jacket that he had first thought was from Dean coddling his wrist there. He let out a heavy sigh and eased the flap of the jacket over, instantly regretting it. A knife was protruding out of his stomach, blood bubbling around the blade. "Oh God, this is bad," Sam winced, looking up at his brother's face. "I'm gonna call 911, Dean," he said reaching for his discarded coat.

His hand was stopped by a stronger than it should have been hand around his wrist. "No," Dean managed to say.

"No?" Sam looked at the hold on his wrist then to Dean's eyes. "No?"

"No... Sammy... no hospitals ever again," he rasped, breaking into a coughing fit. The coughing sounded wet and Dean looked like he was choking. Sam quickly eased Dean to his side and began to pat his back. "Easy! Easy!"

After the coughing subsided, Sam gently rolled him back over, looking at him sternly. "I'm calling 911, Dean, you are going to die if we don't get you medical help!"

Blood now trickled on Dean's lips. Sam ran his hand through his hair in frustration, leaving a trail of Dean's fresh blood across his own forehead. His hands were drenched with it.

"No," Dean insisted again, looking Sam in the eyes.

Sam could see it all in that look... he could feel it... and he couldn't stop his own eyes from filling up with tears. He knew Dean couldn't handle going back to another hospital. Not when the last visual of one was his own father, his mentor, his everything, laying on a table with his shirt ripped open, an aggressive doctor beating on his chest trying desperately to give the man a few more heartbeats that would never come.

"Dean, you are going to die if I don't take you to one, now," Sam openly sobbed, chewing on his bottom lip to the point of blood draw.

Dean's eyes were now filled with tears. Sam wasn't sure if it was from the physical pain, or the memories now flooding his mind of their father. Dean grabbed the front of Sam's shirt weakly and Sam instantly leaned in. "I'm... not ... afraid..."

TBC...


End file.
